


House on a Hill

by Milieu



Series: Uchiha Itachi vs Society [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Drama, Gen, Inheritance, mention of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-06 14:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14058810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieu/pseuds/Milieu
Summary: Itachi receives an inheritance, mentally roasts a lawyer, and gets very drunk with his significant annoyance, more or less in that order.





	House on a Hill

It irked Itachi sometimes that he had it in him to be at all grateful for his circumstances.

Of course there was the adage that things could always be worse and that he should be grateful that they weren't. He had a steady, if menial, job which he didn't hate quite enough to leave (yet). He had friends, after a fashion. He had Kisame in particular, aggravating as their mutual swinging between friendship and romance could be. And he still had Sasuke in his life, despite the odds.

Itachi had been denied custody twice already. Not financially stable enough, too young, and he had a criminal record, paltry as it might be. In the system's eyes, all of these things probably would have been enough reason for Minato and Kushina to deny Itachi visitation as well, but they hadn't. They had been a godsend, really, and Itachi was forever torn between that gratitude and a constant aggravation that he had to be so grateful to them in the first place. But Sasuke hadn't been sent halfway across the country once Itachi aged out of the foster care system, the Namikaze-Uzumaki family had a boy just about the same age as Sasuke, and Itachi was invited for dinner every other weekend and kept up to speed by Kushina via phone when he wasn't able to make it. They had been far, far luckier than many other people that went through the system, and Itachi was well aware of it.

All of that didn't change the fact that there were days that weighed down on him, nights that he couldn't sleep, nights that when he  _did_  sleep, he woke within a few hours sweating and shaking and certain that he could smell smoke. Sometimes he slept with the window open even in the middle of winter so that he could breathe in the fresh air. He got headaches often, and they built themselves up into migraines with what seemed to be increasing frequency. He could feel one brewing now, just behind his eyes, but this wasn't an afternoon where he could go home early and turn in before seven, and knowing that relief wouldn't be coming soon only made the problems feel more intense. And of course there was the constant worry plaguing Itachi that if  _he_  felt unwell, what might be going on with Sasuke?

Itachi wouldn't know anytime soon, unfortunately. He had phoned Kushina on his way to the bus stop to let her know about the call he had gotten from some family lawyer and that he most likely wouldn't make it to dinner. Normally, even an oncoming migraine wouldn't stop him unless he was bedridden, but he didn't know how long things at the legal office would take, and Itachi wasn't one to make false promises about being there for Sasuke when he probably wouldn't be. They'd both had enough of that from others.

Kushina had been sympathetic and did what she could to inject some cheer into the long afternoon and evening Itachi had ahead of him. Sasuke and Naruto were getting along just fine, she assured him, and Sasuke had gotten into the habit of helping her out in the kitchen when she'd had a particularly long day at the veterinary office. He was still quiet and moody, but didn't stay cooped up in his room all the time anymore. He and Naruto had been discussing what clubs and sports teams they wanted to sign up for when the school year started. She was sure that Sasuke would do very well in his classes too, she had told Itachi. He was a bright and capable boy just like his older brother, she said.

Itachi had to admit that hearing what Kushina had to say had helped his mood, even if the bus rattling him to pieces on its way downtown did nothing for his head. The compliment wasn't half-bad either, even if the star student who graduated at 16 was now a police academy dropout who stayed up late straining his eyes over data entry spreadsheets and freelance news soundbites, working and waiting for some big break.

He supposed that was the main reason he was going so willingly to meet Danzo Whomever The Fuck, attorney at law. Itachi had been left something by someone, to no small shock given that he wasn't aware of any close living relatives, and while he did his best to keep his expectations tempered it was hard not to hope for a little windfall. Something to put towards a car would be nice, he thought as the bus hit a particularly vindictive pothole and nearly bounced him out of his seat. Itachi could have sighed with relief when his stop finally came and he disembarked.

The office wasn't hard to find even if he hadn't had the address written down. Shimura Danzo (nee Whomever The Fuck) was clearly not the kind of man who spared expenses with his business. Or at least with his signage; the building itself was rather stylish and comfortable, but the massive sign bearing Shimura's name out front spoke of the kind of person who wanted to make sure nobody forgot who owned the place.

Itachi reminded himself not to let his impressions of the building negatively color his impression of the man, only for his suspicions to be proven quickly and almost triumphantly very, very right as soon as Danzo greeted him. The man positively radiated sleaze to such a degree that Itachi was almost surprised he didn't come away feeling greasy after they shook hands.

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Uchiha," Danzo began as they settled into his office. The chair opposite the lawyer's desk was overstuffed and its leather squeaked embarrassingly as Itachi settled into it.

"It's usually best to do what lawyers say," Itachi returned cordially. Danzo offered him a thin-lipped smile, which Itachi returned in kind. "I'm afraid your secretary wasn't completely clear when I spoke with him over the phone, though- whose estate are we discussing, exactly?"

Danzo didn't look surprised that Itachi was out of the loop somewhat. He seemed like the kind of person who liked to hold all the cards, Itachi supposed. However much he thought he had Danzo figured out already, though, he couldn't keep the shock completely off of his face when Danzo spoke.

"That would be your great-uncle, Uchiha Madara."

"He's still alive?" Itachi blurted out without thinking. He knew the name of Uchiha Madara, of course; he had heard many family stories centering on Madara, few of them flattering. They had all seemed to take place so long ago (and certainly nobody in the family ever made mention of visiting with Madara) that Itachi had always assumed he was long dead.

"He was, until just recently," Danzo confirmed. "My condolences, of course."

"I didn't know him," Itachi replied, again reflexively. His thoughts weren't on what he was saying. Danzo's simple explanation had imparted quite a bit more information that he might have been aware, and Itachi was preoccupied with digesting it all.

First and foremost: Itachi and Sasuke had, until very recently, had not only a living relative, but a comparatively close living relative. A close living relative who almost certainly had the means to care for two orphaned children, or to provide them with some sort of support even if he hadn't taken them in, assuming that whatever inheritance Itachi was now posed to receive from him didn't turn out to be just some kind of bottle cap collection or whatever it was that reclusive old people spent their time on.

Madara had never come for them.

And that, well. That was a lot to process all at once. It was a lot, and Itachi still had a headache pounding behind his eyes, and now he was  _angry_ , because he had just about gotten to being okay with the fact that he and Sasuke had each other and nobody else, only to have it thrown in his face now that all along there had been someone who could have made things - not okay, but better. And that person had chosen not to.

The real kicker, of course, was that now Itachi would probably never even know why they had been left out in the cold by Madara. Worse than knowing that you had been unwanted was not knowing  _why_. 

Danzo kept the conversation moving, oblivious to or unconcerned by Itachi's inner turmoil. "I was delayed in contacting you thanks to the, ah... somewhat disorganized nature of your great-uncle's affairs, shall we say. He was quite the genius at many things, and among those was tax evasion." Danzo's tone shifted slightly, indicating what Itachi assumed was supposed to be humor. "Everything is in order now, however." He had been fiddling with a file of documents as he spoke and presented it to Itachi now.

Itachi took it and flipped it open, trying not to look too interested. He got as far as scanning the first few lines before all the pieces fell into place.

For a long moment, Itachi stared in silence at the papers in front of him. Finally, he broke free of the spell and slammed the file down onto Danzo's desk.

"Is this some kind of joke?" His voice didn't come out as steadily as he wanted it to.

"My office prides itself on professionalism," Danzo returned dryly.

Itachi had half a mind to fling the file at him, but instead he snatched it up again, staring intently. He thumbed through everything in it. No loopholes, none that he could see. He was overwhelmed by a sense of the surreal.

"Madara's will was very clear," Danzo said, breaking Itachi's concentration. "I find it quite interesting, personally. I had never pegged him as a generous man."

Itachi barked out a laugh at that and took a small jolt of pleasure in the put-out look that flickered across Danzo's face. "Generous?" He echoed. "He was an asshole!" Danzo did not contest that point, and was too slow in any other response to keep Itachi from forging on ahead. "He was a scumbag! He was a petty, vindictive, warmongering, criminal-"

"Millionaire," Danzo cut him off. " _Multi_ -millionaire. That," he nodded at the file, "is the amount still left over after his estate was properly taxed."

Itachi exhaled with the force of someone who had just been punched in the stomach. He already felt a prickle of embarrassment for letting his composure crack in front of someone like Danzo, but most of his mind was on the papers in his hands and Danzo's words. "This... is mine now," he said unsteadily, seeking some kind of confirmation.

"All except for the trust to be set aside for your brother until he comes of age, yes."

"I see." He couldn't think of anything else to say, eyes returning to the documents once again.

Six years of nothing, not even a notice that Madara was still alive and kicking, and now Sasuke had a trust fund.

It occurred to Itachi that a good chunk of the frankly ludicrous sum named on the papers in front of him was probably blood money, considering what he knew of Madara. Immediately afterwards, it occurred to him that he didn't care about that as much as he should have. Sasuke had a trust fund.

"So now what?" He asked, raising his head to meet Danzo's gaze again.

"This more or less concludes our business with each other for now," Danzo said. "You may keep that file for your own records; it's a copy. I'll be in contact over the next few weeks to assist with the transferring of Madara's assets to you."

Itachi nodded, somewhat absently. "I suppose we're done here for today, then." He carefully shuffled all the papers back into the folder and made sure none were in danger of slipping out before he stood.

As he did so, Danzo spoke up again. "I am curious," he began. Itachi looked at him with a raised eyebrow, silently inviting him to continue. "I ended up doing some background research on you while we got things in order. Checking up to see if there would be anything to complicate the process, you understand."

Itachi made a noncommittal noise. He was willing to bet that he understood more than Danzo thought he did.

"Just out of curiosity- why did you choose to leave the police academy?"

Itachi almost snorted. Instead, he composed his face into a thin, polite smile. "Too much corruption."

Going by Danzo's expression, he didn't find the same ironic humor in it that Itachi did.

\---

Itachi got about a third of the way through his bus ride back home before he finally cracked.

It was overcrowded, people pressing in on all sides. He was clutching the folder to his chest in a death grip. He had been pickpocketed on the bus before; if anyone had brushed against him with intent just then, he might have tried to break their fingers. The headache still pressed at his temples and behind his eyes.

His mind was in two places; most of it was occupied with keeping his breathing steady (in for four counts, hold it, out for eight counts, hold it). The rest was a tangled rush of  _Sasuke has a trust fund_ and  _Madara had been alive the whole time_ and  _what do you even_ do  _with this kind of money_?

Itachi was still struggling to even wrap his mind around the sum. He had never thought he'd see a check with that many figures in his entire life. Like okay, he could buy a house with that, no sweat. He could buy a car. He could pay off any outstanding debts and bills. He could go back to school. He could... furnish the house, he supposed. Buy some new clothes. Keep the kitchen stocked.

Shit, he could start buying the  _good_ cup noodles instead of the off-brand.

That was the wayward thought that started Itachi laughing, and once he started, he couldn't stop. He pressed a hand over his mouth to muffle himself, but people were already looking at him, confused, annoyed, concerned. He felt a curl of hysteria in the pit of his stomach.

A woman near him cleared her throat. "Are you... okay?" She ventured.

Itachi turned to her, doing his best to keep a manic grin off his face. She twitched as though to step back and away from him, but there was no room to do so.

"No," he said simply. He reached up to press the button for the next stop before he could say anything else. He knew this part of town; apparently he was going to make a detour to Kisame's place for the night. He needed privacy and to be away from people, and his own apartment suddenly seemed very far away.

The other passengers parted to let him to the door as best they could, like he might suddenly lash out at any one of them. Itachi didn't pause for a second once his feet touched the sidewalk, moving single-mindedly down the route he knew by heart. The wind had picked up, carrying a scent that promised rain late that night or perhaps the next day. Itachi was struck with a sudden, irrational urge to stand outside and wait for it to come down, but he kept his legs moving.

It was with a sense of relief that he reached Kisame's complex and made for the stairs. He fumbled with his keys one-handed until he came up with the right one, not bothering to knock.

He swung the door open with much more force than necessary, sending it rebounding off the wall with a thud. "Kisame!"

Footsteps from the direction of the bedroom, and then Kisame emerged, hair mussed and a towel cinched around his waist. He must have just recently showered.

Kisame paused in the hall as Itachi stepped in and slammed the door shut behind himself, no doubt taken aback by Itachi's somewhat unhinged expression.

"Kisame," Itachi breathed, biting off a half-note of another hysterical giggle at the end of his name. "Kisame, I'm a millionaire."

Kisame's eyebrows rose as Itachi approached. "...Did you rob a bank?"

"No." Itachi thrust the folder out against Kisame's chest. "Look."

Slowly and carefully, Kisame took the file, briefly covering Itachi's smaller hands with his own. Itachi wanted to kiss him. Itachi probably needed to sit down.

As though sensing that, Kisame took him by the arm and guided him further into the apartment to the couch, onto which Itachi collapsed without preamble. He watched as Kisame flipped the folder open and scanned the papers inside, expression changing from confusion to shock and disbelief.

"Holy shit."

"I know."

"I didn't even know you had a great-uncle."

"Neither did I."

Kisame looked up from the file at that, expression settling into a frown. He closed the folder and set it down on the couch next to Itachi. "Sit here, I'll be right back." He strode off to get dressed, and then went to the kitchen for something while Itachi stared at a spot on the wall and tried to keep breathing.

He must have spaced out, because the next thing he knew Kisame had snapped him back to reality by shoving a full wine glass into his hand. "What's this for?"

"Celebration." Kisame brandished his own glass and the bottle he had evidently poured both from. "And you look like you need it."

No arguing with that last point, at least. Itachi drained his glass in one gulp.

\---

Dark clouds rolled in throughout the evening, bringing a distant echo of thunder. By the time it was well and truly night, Itachi found himself sprawled out on Kisame's living room floor surrounded by papers, leaning his head against Kisame's leg. They had made short work of the first bottle of wine, and gotten most of the way through a second before their last combined shreds of common sense reigned and they put the drinks out of reach to prevent any spills on the legal documents.

"He's got  _another_ house," Kisame reported, laying a deed atop the pile. "Who the fuck needs that many homes?"

"Rich assholes with no sense," Itachi replied. He looked up at Kisame for a moment, and then shifted, wriggling up further into Kisame's lap. Kisame's arms settled around him, and Itachi reached up to lay a hand against his cheek.

"We could buy a house," he murmured.

The corners of Kisame's mouth turned up slightly. "A big house."

"Massive. Just unreasonably large," Itachi agreed.

"With a huge backyard."

"A rock garden and one of those koi ponds you like." Itachi pulled Kisame's head down to press their foreheads together. Kisame closed the rest of the distance to kiss him, clumsily and not very gently.

Drinking never got Itachi in the mood - pretty much the opposite, actually - but this, the closeness and warmth and sleepy haze of too much wine, this was pretty nice. He was going to have one hell of a headache the next day.

"Just sell all that extra shit," Itachi mumbled against Kisame's jaw. "Or donate it if it's historic or something. And then we can get our own place, and Sasuke can have his own room again..."

Kisame hummed in reply, pulling Itachi's hair loose from its ponytail and winding his fingers into it.

"I can," Itachi started, and then cut himself off with a short laugh. He tried again, "I can donate to Minato's campaign for mayor. And charities. A fuck ton of charities. I could fund neighborhood restorations in Old Konoha." Old Konoha was their city's version of a Chinatown, its main population consisting of Japanese immigrants and their descendants. Itachi still got a strong pang of nostalgia and regret when he remembered his childhood there. Gentrification had hit the areas surrounding it hard, boxing the residents in. "Build affordable housing. Fuck rich people and their frozen yogurt shops."

"You're a rich person now," Kisame pointed out.

"I'm not a  _real_ rich person. Eat the rich. Fuck 'em."

"Not at the same time, I hope."

Itachi shushed him with another kiss.

Thunder rumbled outside, louder and closer now. Itachi thought again of going outside and turning his face up to the rain until he was soaked to the bone. Maybe he would melt. Maybe he would catch pneumonia and die. The possibilities were endless.

Instead of moving to get up, Itachi wound his arms around Kisame's neck and clung tightly to him.

The possibilities were endless.

**Author's Note:**

> Tired and fed-up millennial Itachi is canon Itachi.
> 
> Intended to be the first part of a modern-setting AU. Most other parts will probably be more lighthearted/humorous than this one.


End file.
